


Did you know?

by Eriathalia



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Hux is a cruel bastard, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, description of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-30 20:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6438460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eriathalia/pseuds/Eriathalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo Ren is retrieved from Starkiller base but severely injured. It gives him the opportunity to learn more about general Hux than he had ever expected to know. </p><p>Rated T for now, but rating will go up later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of like Kylo Ren, so I am using the opportunity to explore him as a character a little.

First there is a chill settled deep in my bones when I regain consciousness. It is followed by a blinding pain. I want to move, try to ease it by shifting into another position, but to no avail. I faintly wonder what has cause my--I sneer inwardly--caretakers to restrain me.

A deep groan slips from my throat which seems parched, raw and tingly, probably from overuse.  
Opening my eyes proofs to be the less than an optimal solution. The bright neon lights above me are blinding. It makes my head spin and I feel a wave of sudden nausea hitting me full force, making me retch pitifully. It is disgusting, this weakness that has taken over my whole being.  
There seems to be no one else around. Suits me well enough. I have already lost the greater part of my dignity. No need to humiliate myself even further. 

The illusion is broken as soon as I hear someone in the corner of the room clearing their throat. How did I not sense them earlier? Pathetic!  
A pale face lined by reddish hair invades my field of vision. The constant scowl on those lips is all to familiar to me. Definitely the last person I wanted to see.  
"Well, well" I hear him say, the voice like honey and yet hiding a deathly venom "How nice for sleeping beauty to join the humble world of the living once again" His smile is malicious. It is obvious he is enjoying my current state of indisposition.  
"Hux." I take on my usual aloof tone in an attempt to not give away my lingering discomfort. "Come to gloat, haven't you. Or did you miss me so much?"  
My words are answered with a shallow laugh. "You overestimate your own worth, knight."  
"So I have been told" I answer desinterestedly.  
"I should bring to your notice that it was me who dragged you from that collapsing planet's surface. Or would you rather I had left you to die?" He leans forward, his face close enough to block out everything else from my field of vision.  
"If it would have spared me your hollow speeches"  
A sharp slap hits my cheek and I have to squeeze my eyes shut as my head explodes into a cascade of pain.  
"Oh dear" he mocks "Was that too much for poor Lord Ren? I beg your forgiveness"  
How I wish I could wipe that gleeful grin off his face. Alas, my hands are bound. It is not a possibility. Nevertheless I take note to make him pay for his insolence, once I am back to full health. Revenge is sweetest when it is served cold. And mine will be icy.  
"You waited for this long enough, didn't you? No power to face me man to man. You are such a piteous excuse of a man."  
There are gloved hands closing around my throat, halfway cutting off my air supply. It makes my head spin, dizziness creeping upon me.  
"Do it" I rasp "I know you want to"  
The grip retreats. "You will not use me as your tool, Ren" He stands up straight, towering over me.  
"You are a tool" I reply, my voice still scratchy, breath coming in frantic pants. "And if you are not mine, you still belong to the supreme leader."  
"So are you." His face is like a mask of stone. Sometimes I wonder if he knows any emotions besides anger and contempt. I have never seen him smile, or show anything but a disgusted sneer. Certainly, his speeches are charismatic, but nelow his bravado he is nothing but an empty shell.  
“You are staring” he remarks coldly. “Think me pretty and desirable, hm?”  
“Never!” I turn my face away. “If anything you are repulsing.”  
“And now you're even dealing out compliments? Did that petty scavenger hit your head too hard?” There is a satisfaction on his face with makes bile rise in my throat. If only I could move, I swear I would wring that insufferable man’s neck. Using the Force would be way too easy.  
I feel a sudden desire to run my hands along that pale flesh, slowly closing my hands around his throat, feel the soft skin and then when he--  
I gasp. Those thoughts, where do they come from? I hate him. I despise him. How can I desire him. It makes no sense. I groan.  
“Oh my. Did I hit a sore spot? How convenient.” He crosses his arms and fixes me with another of his infuriating smiles.  
“Leave me.” The air around us bristles with energy as my anger builds up quickly. “GET OUT!” I strain against my bonds, feeling the gash on my side tearing up again as another burst of pain sears through my body.  
Instead of heeding my demands he closes in on me.  
“What do you want? What do you get out of this?” My hands ball into fists, my teeth grinding as I see blacks sparks before my eyes.  
”Revenge” It is a single word, but the way it is spoken holds so many facets, anger, satisfaction, desire, lust even. Until this moment I have never been aware of the true depths of this man’s soul, only ever seeing him as a necessary inconvenience on my way to true power.  
Suddenly there is the need to understand, to explore what drives him to viciously follow the orders of the supreme leader, to know if there is a history, an ulterior motive, a deeper meaning, or if he is after all as shallow as I thought him to be.  
It scares me all the same, for it brings also the desire to know him intimately, the envy driven by the possibility of him sharing himself with another instead of me. I want to possess him, mark him as mine only and ultimately gain his willing devotion.  
“Revenge? For what?”  
He grabs my shoulders forcefully and whispers into my ear “You ruined me. Now I will ruin you.”  
“Ruined? How? What was there even to ruin anymore?” I put all of my authority into my words, but they fail to leave an impression.  
“Because you made me want something I was not supposed to crave” His hand closes around my jaw and tilts my head up. “Don't you understand?”  
I want to shake my head, but his grip holds me in place.  
“You damn fool. You bloody, idiotic, despicable, pathetic man!” With every word his face contorting a little more.  
“Then what do you want?” I hold his scorching gaze sternly. 

And then he kisses me hard, unforgiving and yearning and I understand, the realization hitting me harder than any blow I have ever taken. I return the kiss and it is glorious. I do not know where it will lead us, how it should ever work with either of us knowing nothing but hatred. But for some unthinkable reason I am willing to try.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo has to pay for his failures on Starkiller base and brief moment of attachment to the general.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of torture ahead. If you are offended/ triggered by it turn around right now.

Strange, what petty thoughts keep me awake at night, long after my visitor has gone again. 

For a moment I was inclined to believe, that there was more to him than I had seen so far. However, as he stood up straight, his face scrunched up in disgust, I felt my blood run cold, a perfect mirror of his eyes, draining the last bit of warmth out of me.  
It is the answer to where it would lead us, coming so much sooner than I anticipated, and it costs me all of my willpower to not let my disappointment show. What a fool I had been to reach for the chance offered. I should have known better.

It unnerves me, infuriates me, how even now I am not fully able to kill the boy Ben, who yearns to return to the light, persisting in the deepest corner of my mind, taking over as soon as my carefully erected exterior cracks--and be it for just a fraction of a second-- wordlessly, innocently asking one question: Do you love me? 

And Hux had known, has exploited my one remaining weakness to land another blow. In that he excels despite his fairly young age.   
But of course his true worth to the order could never be measured by his deceiving looks alone. Indeed his cruelty is merely rivaled by that of our supreme leader. And mine. 

I hate him, hate him with such a passion it burns me from inside, hate him for uncovering what I had been so successful to deny. I hate him for making me human again, while he remains more calculating beast than man.

I strain against the bonds which he had tightened with that smug, aloof grin of his as he reveled in that split of a second where he could see the hope in my eyes, proof that I am not entirely devoid of emotion quite yet. It leaves me disabled, my state effectively preventing me from breaking them without expanding the damage on myself.   
How he had hovered above me I will not forget, assessing me with his distant glare, taking in every last detail, thoroughly enjoying me squirming as he undresses me with his eyes, hungry like a wolf. I can see it is not the lust for my flesh that drives him on, but rather the pure delight of torturing me without so much as moving a single finger. 

Passion, lust, desire. They all go so well together with displaying power, taking what we want without care. So when he offered himself up, I had given in, making use of what he was prepared to give as long as it lasted greedily. And the child inside me had wanted it to be more, by that giving him exactly what he desired in turn: another knife to drive through my heart.  
And it is painfully obvious he will make use of it, if only for the sake of getting u der my skin.

It has always been my talent to disguise my true emotions from the outside world, but Hux--he did know which buttons to push to extract this one truth: that beneath it there was the need for meaning.   
No matter how hard I will try, he will forever bestow upon me a knowing spark in his eyes, and the quirk of his lips will tell me how much he enjoys tearing me apart between holding the mirror showing the truth and who I seek to be, need to be. 

It had been my advantage being able to hide it, lie to everyone else, and even more to myself. Turning away was easy enough, splitting off that piece of my personality and closing it away. Only I have lost it now. And that weakness will cost me dearly.

But what I dread most is that my master will know, will make it clear how inadequate an apprentice I am.   
Losing the base was a failure not to be excused. Giving a sign of emotion interfering with duty despite his teachings will gain me a trip to hell and back.

I close my eyes in an attempt to fend off distant memories closing in on me, a promise of what to expect all too soon, when what the girl did to me will appear like nothing more like an inconvenient itch to scratch, by finding some sleep after all.

Instead there is a voice, soft, like honey, but with an underlying malice it is almost tangible. And then it really is, building up slowly, starting out as a prickling sensation, spreading through my head at first before cascading down my whole body. The prickling turns into needles, then knives, stinging, cutting, tearing me apart, my blood burning like fire. I want to scream out, but my mouth won't open. I am suffocating slowly, unable to breathe any longer.   
My vision starts to blur, flashes of black and white dancing before my eyes, my head feeling like exploding, the scull aching like being crushed from the outside while trying to expand from the inside. The pressure is too much to bear. 

I fight against the bonds once more, my back arching off the cot, trying to break free, but the spasming of my muscles takes away any control over my body.

Faintly I can feel my robes soaking with blood running from reopened gashes across my torso. Close. I am so close to slipping into oblivion, but am dragged back from the edge by cold hands that sear my skin nontheless, acidic, slowly creeping their way down to the bone. 

I want it to stop, pray for death to finally come, but there is only one clear thought alone in my mind: You will not die, little knight, for death is more than you deserve. I have only just begun. You will pay for your failures. And then you will learn to serve me better. His laughter, that eerie sound resembling fingernails scratching across a chalkboard--it is everywhere and nowhere, ringing in my ears, tearing at the remnants of my sanity.

I do not know how long it goes on, time and space losing their meaning as my world is reduced to his voice and darkness and agony.

The last thing I am aware off before finally blacking out are greenish eyes looming above me and a chilling scream reverberating from the walls.


End file.
